ghost getting himself a cute, soft girl he doesn't talk about much but is clearly obsessed with and price just thinks it's nice he's finally settled down, approves of the home he's made for himself, definitely approves of the one he's taken for himself.
soap asks kyle if he's seen you and he says, "yep. lovely bird he's got tucked away in her little dollhouse. makes great food, too." soap swears there's a subtle shift in his tone when he says "lovely", a hint of something deeper that flickers in his eyes for just a moment. soap simply sucks on his teeth, letting it slide. (although he knows that kyle's always been one to appreciate the good things in life.)
interest gnaws at him, a persistent itch he can't scratch. price likes you just fine, as does kyle. well what about him? he decides to bite the bullet and goes to simon with a knot between his brows, the corners of his lips tugged downwards. they've shared clothes, bullets, beds. if the other two got to meet you, why can't he?
"ya can come over for dinner on tonight. she'd 'ave my neck if she didn't formally meet ya anyway."
soap then asks, out of genuine curiosity more than anything else, if simon would have kept you in the dark from him hadn't he brought you up himself.
"ya meet 'er when i want ya to, boy, and not a moment before." the tone he takes is unmistakeable. his words are a command, not a suggestion, and soap instantly knows to not push further.
soap nods. "ah'll be there."
"course ya will. she'd be terribly disappointed otherwise."
yeah, he'd hate to have that.
soap sits in the living room, the soft glow of the lamp casting a warm light over the cozy place. with a full stomach and an unfastened belt, nursing a glass of kentucky. he can't remember the last time he ate that well or that much.
maybe it's the alcohol that loosens his tongue, or the fact that he wishes he also had a sweet little thing to keep at his side just like simon's doing with you now, but the thoughts he's been mulling over all evening since he first saw you tumble out of his mouth.
"while ah can attest to yer taste in sweethearts, can't say much about your alcohol. bourbon, LT?" he says, chest warm.
simon's arm tightens around your hips, fingers splayed possessively over your thigh. he shrugs, completely unbothered by the backhanded compliment. "can't be perfect in everythin', can we, sergeant?"
soap's cheeks burn furiously hot when you come to his defense with a smack of your palm onto simon's chest. "be nice to johnny. he's got a face that make up for some of his other flaws."
the teasing lilt in your voice unashamedly gets his southern blood pumping. he can't help it if certain things stir when someone as pretty as you look at him like that. soap swirls the amber liquid gently in the glass while keeping his limpid eyes on you, not even trying to hide the fact that his gaze hasn't wavered since your cheeky little comment.
you then whisper something in simon's ear, your cupped hand not even half the size of his head and soap has to rearrange himself from the outside when your teeth catch your bottom lip. simon looks up at you then, eyes heavy and half lidded, and a smirk plays at the corners of his mouth.
"'m not sure, love. you'll just 'ave to ask 'im yourself. go on."
you open that sweet mouth of yours, but simon cuts you off with a decisive wave of his hand. "no. you know how to ask for things."
your reaction to that is visceral, and you're on your knees faster than his alcohol-muddled brain can comprehend. don't look down 'er shirt, don't look down 'er shirt, don't-
"johnny, will you touch my pussy?"
he splutters at your question, completely taken aback, but it seems you're not done just yet.
"hands to yourself, sergeant. tha' not all."
you pout at simon, one that earns you a look that promises consequence, but do as he says.
"will you touch my pussy, johnny? pretty please?"
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hey wait a minute
so it's the start of AvA part 7 and Chosen and Dark are talking, right?
and the former has this vision of terrible things happening if they don't stop the latter, right here and now.
they see the ViraBots descending on the last remnants of stick kind with Dark as their leader (or Lord if you will. ha ha)
and i, trusting viewer, took their assessment as reliable*.
we JUST saw Dark getting uncomfortably violent in earlier scenes after all
but
however
notwithstanding
unless Chosen has demonstrable prophetic powers (like how Orange has** in the past seen things currently happening (horizontally-prophetic let's call it: seeing faraway in the current time) (there's probably a better word for this but let's move on)), how did they know this was definitely what Dark was leading up to?
** ⬆ examples of Orange horizontally-prophesizing in AvM episode 11, SkyBlock (unconfirmed but referenced as, "uh? well maybe??? maybe i didn't think about it yet-" (abridged quote from AvG react video))
(op will die /j /extremely pos if this is used again in AvA 11 (HAH they'd both be episode 11 (op just giggled maniacally)))
Dark doesn't even have his control bracelets on.
because Chosen didn't know about them yet.
because this is not a prophetic vision.
Chosen is just that... reactive.
what was it.
@compressedrage (hi o/ ) had a good wording let me find it.
yeah i guess it was reactionary
the ONLY time we've seen them stop to think things through is actually just a terrified anxiety breakdown while they stand there, frozen, imagining the worst, until they snap out of it JUST in time to impact their reality.
but with no time left for debate. reasoning. they assumed Dark was beyond reasoning from the moment he showed off what his device could do............. because they were beyond reasoning out of fear.
<community post version>
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